


let's compare scars, i'll tell you whose is worse

by tsunderestorm



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26514973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: When Cloud strips Vincent of his clothes, his body is a battlefield.
Relationships: Cloud Strife/Vincent Valentine
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	let's compare scars, i'll tell you whose is worse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [transboydio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/transboydio/gifts).



> I asked for prompts on my [twitter](twitter.com/tsunderestorm). The prompt for this was, "You aren't the only one with scars, you know."
> 
> Title from "Swing Life Away" by Rise Against.

When Cloud strips Vincent of his clothes, his body is a battlefield. A jagged vivisection scar rips down his chest, stitched together with well-meaning but clumsy hands. Lucrecia had been a doctor, but a surgeon she was not, and stabilization won over beauty. It feels foolish to be vain, now, but Vincent is no stranger to being a fool when romance is concerned. Cloud is a beauty, and Vincent is a beast.

“A monster,” Vincent says, hanging his head. Hating what he sees when he looks down at the battered and brutalized topography of his walking corpse. Hating that Cloud is seeing it, now, a nightmare of a man. A monster, with monsters living inside of him. A nesting doll of horrors.

Cloud sighs. “You aren’t the only one with scars, you know.”

He strips off the SOLDIER-issue knit tank he still wears and drags Vincent’s hand to his chest, laying a path of cautious touches, guiding him, and Vincent’s black-tipped fingers rub over one scar that stands out from the rest. One that didn’t heal right, even in a vat of mako. One that wakes Cloud silent, sweating, and shamefaced from nightmares and daydreams alike. 

“He did this,” Vincent says. It is not a question, not when he already knows the answer. _Sephiroth, and his Masamune’s cruel kiss._ This, too, is his sin. Cloud drags Vincent’s hands across his body, over scars both intentional and accidental, the surgical and the mundane.

“You’ve suffered,” Vincent sighs. Cloud’s warmth seeps through even the numbness of his blackened fingers. He wants to turn away from the sensation, undeserving. He wants to hold him and never let go. Greedy, hungry. For the first time in many years, he yearns for someone not long dead.

Cloud shrugs. “Yeah, well. I lived. Scars are no biggie. Just don’t go thinking you’re special, old man.”

There’s something refreshing about Cloud’s lack of tact, the candor paired with his deadpan cadence. It’s grounding, and Vincent leans into it.


End file.
